


Imerian's Dawn

by Vesania94



Category: Original Work
Genre: Assault, Blood, Character Death, Created Language, Dark Magic, Dysfunctional Family, Explicit Language, F/M, NaNoWriMo, all that fantasy bull you hate to love, lost princess trope, magical alternate dimensions, oooh look she can use magic this is so surprising
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 14:24:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8449711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vesania94/pseuds/Vesania94
Summary: NANOWRIMO 2016 PRESENTS: A special re-work of a very old novella, written by a very young, very inexperienced Vesania94/5ftGarden, back when I went by Itania on the website Booksie.Danellia Reginald has had a quiet upbringing as the only daughter to a single mother. By all intents and purposes a normal, modern girl, living in a crappy part of town, she isn't surprised when she is assaulted on her morning run.What happens afterwards however, is a completely alien adventure.Tags and Characters will be updated as they appear





	

Dania woke slowly; gently flexing her toes under the multitude of blankets she slept under. Cracking an amber eye, she glared at the alarm clock next to her, its deceptively cheerful numbers blinking away at her: 

5:58am.

She could hear the clinking of pots and pans as her mother bustled around their small apartment, preparing for the day. The clock ticked over. She had exactly one more minute of warm, quiet, blanket-y bliss before-

There was a loud crash as something slammed against the stove. So much for the quiet part, she thought wryly, throwing the blankets off of her. The cold air hit her, sending chills down her spine as she lowered her feet to the carpet, quickly snatching her socks off of the nightstand just as her alarm started to scream, its shrill tone threatening to wake the entire complex through the paper thin walls. Her hand slammed down on the snooze, quickly switching it off as soon as the alarm stopped.

Then came the morning rituals: socks on, then her fleece running leggings, so her legs would be extra protected from the thick blanket of snow that was supposed to have fallen during the night. High impact sports bra, covered with a thin sweat wicking shirt, covered by a thermal and then another fleece. Gloves, mittens, then a thin –but windproof– shell. Hat, keys in pocket, pepper spray around her neck. Twist down the solid bun of hair on her head, pull it back tighter, and twist it around an old sock so it stayed out of her face, orange streak that hung in the front of her face twisting in and out of the thick rope like candle flames in a pitch black room. Shoes on. Running ID snapped to the top. A deep breath, two taps on the shelf next to her door, a quiet good morning to the small shrine set up there, and she was ready.

Blindly stumbling into the hallway, she blinked in the brilliant light from the tiny kitchen, her mother’s warm presence making the frigid apartment almost tolerable.

“Morning Princess,” she whispered as Dania looked in the pan. Her mother was a miserable cook, but it was pretty hard to mess up eggs, at least. Dania smiled.

“Morning Mom. Eggs again?”

“I get paid tomorrow. We’ll go shopping then,” her mother sighed, looking at the meager breakfast. “Going out for a run after breakfast?”

“As always,” Dania said with a shrug, popping a piece of bread into their dilapidated toaster, watching it carefully as it sparked to life, the heating elements toasting the bread unevenly, burning a corner while another remained untouched. Poking at it with a spare wooden skewer, Dania got it to toast relatively evenly, manually popping it out before biting down, chewing thoughtfully. “Why? Something going on?”

“Danellia, don’t talk with your mouth full! Princesses don’t–“ her mother started to lecture, pointing the spatula at her daughter.

“Yeah, I know, ‘Princesses don’t talk with their mouths full,” Dania laughed, swallowing quickly. “You gonna finish cooking those so I can go?”

“Ungrateful brat,” her mother laughed, spooning the eggs onto a small plate. Dania grabbed it and started shoveling it into her mouth with the toast, grinning back awkwardly around the food.

“Tyrannical bitch.”

“Which route are you going on? Just in case you become roadkill?” her mother asked, serving herself and smiling slightly at the casual insults.

“Bowhammer,” Dania responded, finishing the eggs and starting in on the toast. “Should be quiet, finally. The drug-house was raided last week. It may be my only chance to go that route for a while.”

“Alright, Dania. Be safe,” her mother said, kissing her forehead. “I’ll be waiting for you to get back.” With a quick hug, and a short, playful salute, Dania stepped out into the entranceway, letting the door swing shut behind her.

Her street was eerily quiet, the old tenement buildings looming overhead as she walked briskly down the cracked sidewalk towards the abandoned school. It was a deeper quiet than the icy stillness that normally presided over freshly fallen snow, a pervasive, chilling quiet that sunk into her bones faster than any winter’s cold. She twisted quickly, one hand clenched in a fist the other hovering over the pepper spray. There was the barest whisper of fabric over the powdery snow, almost imperceptible, but for her hyperawareness.

“Whoever you are, I’m armed, and I don’t have anything you want,” she said loudly, backing away. “I’m not worth the trouble.”

There was a small crunch, and a fat, orange tabby cat walked out from behind a trash bin. Dania relaxed, rolling her eyes. Living in the shady neighborhood was making her paranoid, though not completely without reason. Turning again, she started running, her feet hitting the ground in an even staccato tempo, or as even as the covered sidewalks would allow. She passed the abandoned school building, its broken windows and barred doors telling the sad story of the town more succinctly than anything she had ever witnessed. Running farther, harder, she passed the burnt shell of an apartment building, small piles in the snow denoting where flowers had been laid. She stopped, dusting off a few of the piles, bright pinks and reds of the plastic and silk showing through the snow. It was all a routine.

Two taps good morning, flowers for the grave. A brief, whispered prayer, lilting alien words slipping over her tongue like music that she didn’t fully understand, fluid in tone, but clunky and heavy in recitation, the words holding little meaning outside their use as a prayer.. 

“ _Hal’rogan issal enya, hal’rogan issal sumir. Hal’camen issal–_ “

Her ears pricked up as the subtle whisper of fabric over snow one more time. Tense moments passed as she carefully detached the pepper spray, holding it tightly in her hand as she paused, taking a shaking breath before continuing.

“ _–Hal’camen issal sin’hakye. Hal’cassan issal virash…_ ”

She paused once again as the audible crunch of snow behind her made her breath stop in her throat.

“Pretty words, for a pretty princess.”’

The grating and distinctively male voice behind her made her grip the pepper spray tighter, turning and holding it out, finger poised to slip onto the button.

“I’m armed,” she shouted loudly. “My mother is expecting me back at the house soon.” The man laughed in her face, pulling back his heavy winter coat, revealing a long curved knife, almost ritualistically ornate. 

“Your precious mother won’t be expecting anyone once we’re finished with her,” he laughed viciously. “Now be a good girl and don’t struggle.” He reached his hand out towards her wrist, rough yet slimy hands gripping at her skin, and she twisted hard, pulling out of his grip.

“I’ll call the police!”

“Like they can do anything, princess. Now come along with us.”

More men materialized out of the alleyways, slowly trying to surround her. She backed into the unplowed street, still holding the canister tight in her hand. 

“Stay away from me!” she screamed, backing up farther and farther. She hit a snowed in car, floundering slightly in a drift, snow falling down the back of her neck. Hands gripped her wrists, one at her throat, hot breath on her face. She screwed her eyes tight and hit the button, releasing a huge cloud of the pepper spray.

Instantly, her attackers let go, swearing and coughing as she pushed blindly off the car, elbows slamming into ribs as she fought and scraped her way out of the crowd, legs carrying her over the ground in a burst of speed, the remnants of her days of track paying off as she slid and slipped over the snow, bolting towards her apartment door.

Panting, she gripped the railing, her limbs shaking and her heart pounding from the sudden adrenaline release. She felt like she was about to be sick. Looking towards the door, her heart froze.

The lock was completely shattered, splinters decorating the stairway as the door swung freely on its hinges.

“Mom?” Dania yelled, pulling herself shakily up the stairs, anxious and terrified to what she would find. Behind her she could hear the men regrouping, slowly coming after her. “Mom!” 

She pushed through her broken down front door, slamming against the wall as she rounded the corner into the kitchen, narrowly avoiding being assaulted by a broom handle.

“Dania! Thank the Gods. Are you alright?” her mother asked, hair askew as she lowered the broomstick, pulling Dania into a hard hug.

“There were men and they-“

“I know, Dani, I know. We need to leave. We need to leave now,” her mother said, pushing her towards the door, grabbing the car keys to the battered sedan that sat in the underground parking.

“Mom, what’s going on?” Dania pressed, reaching for the door just as it slammed open, the man who had accosted her before standing there, red faced and angry, eyes wild and blood shot. Both women screamed loudly, falling backwards. Dania was the fastest, hauling her mother off the floor and bolting towards her bedroom. 

“They weren’t supposed to find me,” her mother babbled, slamming the bedroom door shut and locking it as Dania started to shove her dresser in front of the door. The wood rattled ominously as the man made his way through the house. “They weren’t supposed to find us!”

“What are you talking about?” Dania screamed, looking at the window with a sudden dreadful realization. The landlord had installed bars over it early that year after a few rocks had been thrown through.

There was no way out.

“In the closet,” her mother said suddenly, backing away from the door as it shook, the sound of the wood splintering harshly on the other side echoing through the house. Dania hesitated. “DANELLIA GET IN THE CLOSET!”

She raced to the small door, pulling it open and ducking inside, her heart racing as her lungs begged for more space, more air than the enclosed space had to offer. It was too much. Her mother joined her shutting the door tightly.

“We’ll be ok,” she kept repeating, ripping off a small silver locket. “We’ll be fine, Dania.” She unclasped the locket, revealing a large black stone, which she held to her mouth, whispering urgently. The locket started to glow slightly, a dull purple color that leaked between her mother’s fingers, lighting up the small closet. “We’ll be fine, just hold my hand and don’t panic." 

Her mother set the locket on the ground, watching the light grow brighter and brighter until it was too intense to look at. Her hand outstretched, searching for Dania’s when the closet door ripped open, the man from before grabbing her mother by her hair, dragging her back.

“Mom!”

The long knife flashed once, briefly, followed by a brilliant curtain of scarlet spilling from her mother’s neck. Dania felt her stomach turn as the man laughed loudly.

“Long live the Queen, am I right, Princess?” he asked, hefting the knife once again Dania backed away, pressing herself into the wall as the man reached for her, lashing out with her foot and catching him in the side of the knee. He cursed, throwing a fist towards her face and connecting, sending her sprawling to the floor, her arms flailing as she hit. One touched the necklace, her fingers grasping onto it instinctively.

There was a flash of bright purple light that lit up the room.

And then there was nothing.


End file.
